


The Dagger

by PlaneJane



Category: The Eagle/Eagle of the Ninth
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaneJane/pseuds/PlaneJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to <a href="http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/"><b>the_eagle_kink</b></a> prompt, <a href="http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/752.html?thread=528368#t528368">here</a>, <i>Marcus shies away from sex with Esca, and Esca assumes it's his Roman pride getting in the way. The truth is Marcus has a small penis and he's afraid Esca will be turned off.</i>  Esca convinces him otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dagger

**Title:** The Dagger  
 **Fandom:** The Eagle/Eagle of the Ninth  
 **Characters:** Marcus/Esca  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** 2,800  
 **Summary:** In response to [](http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_eagle_kink**](http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/) prompt, [here](http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/752.html?thread=528368#t528368), _Marcus shies away from sex with Esca, and Esca assumes it's his Roman pride getting in the way. The truth is Marcus has a small penis and he's afraid Esca will be turned off._ Esca convinces him otherwise.  
 **A/N:** This is a fusion of the book and the film. Please excuse my use of quasi-archaic language. There is still liberal use of the word 'cock'. Also, the Brigante's saying was my invention as well as how they 'kiss'.  
 **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction. The characters are not mine.

 

  
Esca splashes his face with cool water, takes a deep breath and leaves his cell. Since returning south with the Eagle, he has his own room, next to Marcus’, in Uncle Aquila’s house.

In the quiet, darkened hallway, heart pounding, Esca pauses outside Marcus’ door.

Much has passed between Esca and Marcus in the course of the last year and a half. Esca is certain by now that his attraction to Marcus must be obvious and that in some way Marcus harbours the same affection for Esca. Now he is a freedman and they are safe and sound, what Esca cannot fathom then is the neglect of his advances. They have been subtle, cautious, he will admit that much, and Marcus, Esca smiles at the recollection, can at times be oblivious. His final offensive is to be direct and let Marcus give his answer one way or the other – Esca cannot wait any longer.

Marcus does not lock his door at night.

The soft light from Marcus’ brazier reflects off the lime-washed walls of his cell, casting the room in a pale orange glow. Marcus is flat on his back in his cot.

“Are you sleeping, Marcus?”

“No.” He shifts up onto one elbow. “Is your cell not to your liking, Esca?”

“It is fine enough.” Esca approaches slowly and perches on the side of the bed. “But I should prefer to be in here with you.”

Esca hears Marcus’ breath catch but he does not turn Esca away. Esca presses his case, while he has the advantage. “Am I mistaken, that it is your desire to have me in your bed, too? If so, I promise I shall never speak of it again, and you might try to liken this moment to a dream, so that I might not be shamed in your company tomorrow?”

With that, Marcus reaches up and brushes a knuckle to Esca’s cheek. “Esca, you are not mistaken. But you have lost your heart to a Roman fool, and I fear I will be a disappointment to you.”

Esca had not imagined this would be Marcus’ response. “How can that be so? I have seen the Centurion’s body,” Esca skims his hand over Marcus’ chest, “in all its nakedness. There is nothing that displeases me. And more than this, you are strong in your passion, determined, also tender and patient. Are these not the qualities a Roman seeks in a lover?”

“They are all and more.”

Marcus sits up and hangs his head and Esca sees the shadowed look of a man who carries dishonour in his heart.

Esca recalls the strange ways of the Romans, of their disgust towards some acts of intimacy in which Esca has only found pleasure and comfort, never guilt or remorse. He pleads his case. “The Romans have strange customs, of what may be permitted and what is considered ... shameful. But we are far from Rome and I am even further from being Roman. Can we not try to tread upon a middle ground together and find some happiness there?”

Esca finds, unexpectedly, that at the last his voice quivers. Marcus must have noticed, for he places his hand, solid and warm, around the back of Esca’s neck and pulls him close, until their foreheads bump together. His breathing is fast, like a wounded deer. Esca has to clench his fists in frustration and anger that Marcus might reject him before he has even given him a chance to prove himself worthy, to show Marcus that all is not Rome, that love has many forms.

“I would have you show me everything Esca, and only you. Please, do not be angered. What I am to tell you wounds me and I ashamed enough of my vanity.”

“Marcus?”

“You have seen me in my nakedness, that is true, yet you have not seen ...”

Marcus, always so able to orate on the broadest of topics, not least on those that concern his heart and mind, is choking on words that fail to leave his mouth and Esca feels the pain of it in his chest, fiercer and sharper than a blow or a blade. He does the only thing he can think of that might comfort his friend. Puckering his mouth and nuzzling Marcus’ face up with his nose, Esca presses his lips to Marcus’ and keeps them there. He bunches his fists in the loose folds of Marcus’ tunic and does not let go.

“Esca! Is that a kiss?” Marcus speaks the words with soft surprise against Esca’s mouth.

“I was hoping it is. Was it no good?”

They each manage a nervous smile, faces far apart enough to regard the other.

“It was done well.” Marcus looks away, wistfully, and sighs. “I am sorry, that you would have me and be misled. I am a tall and well-statured man, with a hand span to match.” To show it, Marcus takes Esca’s hand and lays it flat upon his palm. Esca’s fingertips only just reach the last joint in Marcus’ fingers. “If only it were that the same could be said of all of me.”

Esca has to think. Marcus is speaking in riddles. He rakes his mind, thinking of Marcus from his head to his feet, trying to understand what Marcus could possibly –-

“You are worried that you are not sufficiently endowed?” Esca has to bite back a laugh. This is the sole source of Marcus’ anxiety? “That the extent of your manhood will not please me?”

“I am glad it amuses you.”

Marcus’ voice is gruff and he tries to push Esca away. Esca does not allow it, not for such a triviality.

“Do you not have this saying, amongst the Romans? _The dagger is as deadly as the sword, when it is a masterful hand that wields it._ ”

“No, we do not. But we have others that are less kind.”

Esca pushes Marcus onto his back, straddles his waist and laughs unabashed into his face. “Foolish Roman, to pay heed to such nonsense.” And Esca would feel quite the fool himself, not having spoken so many earnest words in one go for a long time, except that Marcus needed to hear them. With honest affection, Esca asks, “Now you must show me how to kiss, that I might wield my tongue like that of a master.”

It seems this is enough to unleash all that Marcus had kept reined in tight, for he flips Esca onto his back and kicks off his blanket and pushes his mouth to Esca’s. His tongue laps into Esca’s mouth and steals his breath and at first, all Esca can think is that it does not taste of anything. Better though, is that there is a closeness about it he really likes.

Marcus purses his lips and press-sucks against the corner of Esca’s mouth; he licks over Esca’s lips and whispers against his skin, “It is like a dance. You can follow or lead or move about me as you wish. There are no rules.”

Esca replies, hoarse and breathy, “How very un-Roman,” before venturing his tongue to lick inside Marcus mouth. It is a wet, soft, warm place, that would remind him of a cunt were it not for Marcus’ teeth, the eager swipe of his tongue and the noises he makes in the back of his throat.

That is the last thought of cunts as Marcus peels off his tunic, revealing the muscular expanse of his chest. He was wearing nothing beneath it. Too fast for Esca to drink in the sight of him, Marcus lays over Esca, his weight a solid wall of heat, the stiffness in his cock pressing to Esca’s thigh.

Esca touches his fingers across Marcus’ brows, down the bridge of his nose, over the curve of his lips. This is how the Brigante learn the small, secret places of a lover when they are at the beginning of that private journey. Marcus’ hair is soft behind his ears and Esca’s caress makes him shiver. His eyes are black as night and there is a hunger in them that is deep, never-ending.

Marcus catches Esca’s fingertips in his mouth; at first he kisses and then he sucks slow, using his tongue to push and pull. The feeling flares from Esca’s hands to his cock; he rocks up into Marcus with a needy whine. Marcus must feel it, too, as he clasps Esca at the waist and rolls them so that he is on his back again and Esca is astride his waist.

“You have been keeping secrets from me, Centurion.” Esca tries and fails to speak lightly as he divests himself of his tunic and throws it to the floor.

“Not anymore, I assure you.”

At the sight of Esca's bared chest, Marcus sighs and spreads his hands and places them flat on Esca’s breast. He thumbs over Esca’s nipples, making Esca gasp and Marcus’ eyes widen as he watches them tighten to sharp, pink points. Esca’s cock rubs and throbs against the fabric of his braies; he unties the lace and shifts to push them down, catching a glance of Marcus’ cock lying hard and red, low on his belly. As Esca has to lift himself to completely shed the garment, he notices Marcus’ hand move down, push at his balls and settle over his cock, obscuring it from Esca’s view.

Marcus is a tough nut to crack.

Esca does not want to draw attention to what makes Marcus embarrassed, and he understands it, though he doesn’t care. He’d seen Marcus was not amply endowed long ago, and guessed he would be the same even when filled with blood and fully hard. But he had never thought him especially small, or inadequate.

Again, Esca climbs astride Marcus and bends down until their chests are flush, his weight resting on one elbow. This way, Marcus does not have to watch Esca acquaint himself with the stature of his cock and feel anxious.

“Can I touch you?”

Marcus only nods and pulls his hand from between them, settling it on Esca’s hip. The other he cards through Esca’s hair, his fingers twisting gently. Esca pushes his face to Marcus’ palm and kisses his wrist as Marcus closes his eyes.

Esca slides his hand between them, to Marcus’ belly, and cants up his own hips that he can ease his way cautiously downwards. He bends close to say in Marcus’ ear, “It is only us here and I would slit my own throat before I would harm you, Marcus.”

The heat in Marcus’ cheeks burns against Esca’s face. Marcus’ grip tightens in Esca’s hair while Esca trails his hand down and finds Marcus’ cock. It has softened, a little, allowing Esca to knead the flesh until it swells in his grasp, all the while feeling Marcus breathing hotly against his face.

With his fingers curled around its girth, Esca feels his thumb overlap his fingers only slightly more than when he holds his own cock. Levering from his wrist, Esca slides his grip down loosely to the base of Marcus' cock, and up again to the tip, dipping his thumb into the moisture in the slit, and stripping Marcus on the down-stroke. Marcus is big enough that Esca’s smaller hand can grip with a solid fist and have room to move down and up to cover the full length of his hardness. It is possible that Marcus’ closed fist envelopes his whole length, which would surely add to his sense of inadequacy.

Esca strokes Marcus slow and firm, his own cock bumping his forearm, smearing his fluid and sparking jolts of pleasure.

“Esca, Esca,” Marcus breathes, “I want ... please.”

“You want me to taste you? Put you in my mouth?”

“Yes. I want that, yes.”

“Open your legs. That’s it.” Esca touches Marcus’ scar; it’s less angry in appearance than when he first was lamed, but still long, deep and jagged. Marcus’ thighs are strong and heavy, rougher on the outside where scattered dark hair curls over his skin but smooth and hot inside. Esca mouths and nips his way up over that soft golden flesh, flattens his tongue and licks over Marcus’ balls. It makes Marcus whimper and Esca is triumphant that he can draw those needful sounds; wants to find every single way he can do it, for there are bound to be many! Marcus is responsive, sensitive and alight now, arching into Esca’s caresses.

Esca sucks Marcus down, to the root of his stiffened cock. It doesn’t gag him, but fills his mouth aplenty. He lavishes Marcus’ cock with wet sucks and hums around it with ease, feeling Marcus quiver beneath him. It is a powerful and wondrous feeling, to have Marcus Aquila unravelling from his embrace.

“Yes, oh yes. Fuck, yes.”

Esca holds Marcus in his hand as he releases him from his mouth. “You can move your hips, do not fret. And I will not choke on your seed. Let it all go ... for me?”

“You would wish I do that?”

“Yes. Sincerely. Yes.”

This time, Marcus clenches upwards, slow at first. Esca matches Marcus’ rhythm. He touches his balls, where it makes Marcus groan and pant the hardest, and responds in kind to him speeding up as he reaches the height of his passion. His climax arrives on a low groan, Marcus spending into Esca’s mouth, warm and salty and rich. Marcus softens in the cradle of Esca’s mouth, his breathing slowing, his arms and thighs dropping to the mattress.

Esca swallows some of Marcus’ spend and balls the rest with saliva in his mouth, spitting it on Marcus’ balls. Pushing himself up, he looks down at his cock, jutting hard in front of him. He is not a man of massive proportions and hopes that when Marcus sees this, he is reassured.

Marcus lifts a tentative hand to Esca’s cock and sheaths it in his grip. His hand is huge. Esca thinks of it, slick with spit, and how good it would be to fuck through it. The image is rousing and Esca thrusts forward on impulse.

“Want do you want, Esca?”

“Will you close your thighs and let me move between them?”

“This is what you want, and not as much you think I can tolerate?”

“It is what I want for this time. I might spill on your belly if I have to wait on your answer much longer.”

Marcus drags Esca to him and clamps his legs shut. Esca can feel the come-damp skin below him and spreads his legs either side of Marcus’ thighs, pushing his cock down, slicking it with Marcus’ spend, into that tight crease. Esca rocks and pushes down and forward, blinded by the sudden friction.

With a litany of filth and endearments that Marcus will understand only too well after months in the northern wilderness, Esca snaps his hips down, back up and down again, over and over, fast and desperate.

“That’s it, Esca. Harder, harder.” Marcus is sweat-slick and taut and his thighs are _squeezing-tight._

Esca moans as he crests, shudders and comes. Marcus holds him in his arms until he collapses damp and breathless upon his chest.

They rest awhile, stroking over glistening skin and breathing in the heady musk of sweat and come.

It’s been many a month since Esca was a slave, and by any road he does not see it as slave-service to finally get up from the cot and fetch a cloth. If Esca has seen well to Marcus, his right thigh will be too trembling and weak.

Upon returning to the cot, Marcus watches Esca, eyes half-shuttered but hiding nothing. He flinches as Esca wipes him clean, tensing as Esca pushes the cloth between his legs, over his balls and his flaccid cock. Esca does not falter, will not let Marcus hide himself in shame; there is none to be had when Esca loves every part of him.

It is with this thought that Esca slips beside Marcus and curls against his side, nestling his head in the dip between Marcus’ shoulder and chest, resting his arm slack over his waist. Marcus soothes over the skin of Esca’s hip and brushes his fingers through the hair on Esca’s belly.

Esca moves his hand down and skims his fingers, seeking out Marcus' soft cock, lying spent in the damp curls on his groin. He rests his hand there, coddling that soft, small prick in a gentle clasp.

Marcus sighs and holds Esca a little tighter, saying nothing.

It may be that they have travelled further this night than the north and back.

Feeling the pull of sleep, Esca plants a lingering kiss to Marcus’ chest, above his heart, and lays his wearied head back down.


End file.
